Five Words
by NinjaSmashley
Summary: Slice of life: Sherlock wasn't normal. He lived in a world filled with normal and had to accommodate their needs. In the past, he could do so without so much hesitation but this was something he couldn't fake. Not with the life he has now.


A/N: Takes place whenever you want it to take place. I thought of it after the last episode and how I feel he makes these hints about it. Use your imagination.

* * *

John stood there, staring in disbelief. "Can I have my laptop back?" he asked calmly, the rush of writing flowing through him and slowly draining from him as he waited.

"I'm busy."

His flatmate's simple response frustrated him to a point that almost caused him to curse. "Sherlock, you have your own laptop," he offered in what he felt was a calm tone. "Three, in fact."

"I'm using yours at the moment." Sherlock never lifted his eyes from the screen or made a movement to turn around. His shoulders covered the screen but illuminated his frame.

Looking around, John felt his defeat building. Instead of standing there waiting for his flatmate, he turned around and attempted to find something else to do. He mumbled some words at Sherlock as he left that did not reach his ears.

Sherlock's eyes were frozen to the screen, his body still as he listened to John's movements and what might be cuss words. His eyes were glued on the document in front of him but his mind was not on the words across the screen. The word processor was open, the cursor blinking at him, waiting for him to finish his thoughts. The five words mocked him as he sat there, trying to imagine what to type next to complete his work.

Downstairs, he could hear John's hushed, deep voice talking to Mrs Hudson. She laughed, he probably was giving a smirk to her to share in the joke he gave her - probably about him. Mrs Hudson knew how to handle Sherlock in these situations and it wouldn't be above John to go to her and tell on him. Knowing the two of them, she would come up here and try to distract Sherlock so John could come sweeping in and take his laptop back to type about whatever mundane thing he found fascinating during their detective work.

Her door opened, her familiar footsteps went up the stairs while John's went outside. She was carrying something, most likely tea based on the shaking glasses. Quickly, he read over the document he started but couldn't finish, not now since John began requesting his property back.

_People leave notes, don't they?_

Deleting the document, Sherlock shut down the laptop and ended his thought process for that night.

"Sherlock," she said as she entered, "come get some tea. You haven't eaten in a long time."

Closing the laptop, Sherlock said, "I'm fine Mrs Hudson." Turning around to face her, he was greeted with a worried expression covered by a smile. She frantically began to pour a cup for the two of them, a third cup sitting empty. "John is not joining us?" he asked her, causing her to hesitate as she prepared the tea.

"Oh, no, he will. He's fetching some food, I think he said." Her eyes were down as she handed him the teacup, focusing on the tea and her hands. Sherlock sat in his usual spot, watching her as she sat in John's favorite seat across from him. "Tell me what is on your mind, sweetie," she said, finally connecting eyes with him and offering her smile to him.

"A case," he lied quickly. "John got a new email, been thinking about picking it up. I think I have it solved already."

"Oh," she affirmed, not truly understanding him. "Great to hear you two are getting good cases again."

"Yes," he said lowly, staring her down. She was visibly uncomfortable and offered a nervous laugh. "What did you talk to John about before coming here?"

Her affect changed immediately to one of true confusion, "I don't know what you mean, dear." She stared at him as he stared back, her growing uncomfortable again.

"Before John left and after he left here, he went to your flat." He didn't offer any more, he waited for her to answer.

With her confusion melting, she smiled again, that nervous smile she usually throws on when Sherlock is being odd. "Oh, he mentioned needing to go get food and mentioned that you haven't eaten in a moment." She nervously laughed, "I don't know who to worry about more, you or him."

Sherlock glanced down at his cup, the words rattling around in his brain for a moment before he said, "I worry about John, too." Glancing at the clock, Sherlock realized he had been sitting in front of the laptop for three hours and only produced those five words.

People do that, right? They tell their friends and family how much they appreciate them but can't shake the feeling. John was like most people so he would understand. However, most people grieve and the thought of John grieving didn't bode well with Sherlock. Certainly, John did not do well with his experiences during the war, his sense of self. The loss of a coworker and roommate and the end of his career might do a lot for a man who just found himself.

Sipping the last of his tea and offering Mrs Hudson a toothy smile, Sherlock settled on that reasoning.


End file.
